A Private Lesson with Professor Snape
by Boiled Owl
Summary: Three Slytherin students decide they would like some private lessons in forbidden knowledge from Professor Snape. What they get is not what they expected.


Author's Note: This is my first ever Harry Potter fanfiction, so go easy on me! I do like to hear what you think of it all the same! A warning to those who haven't read Goblet of Fire: there is a reference to a spell from that book; however, it doesn't contain any real spoilers for what happens. This is only a short character study involving my favorite character, Severus Snape, and some of his charges from Slytherin House.  
  
Cheers!  
The Boiled Owl ( boildowl@yahoo.com )  
  
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Friday afternoon was long, especially so in the spring, when everyone wanted to be outside. The last class of the day was finally ending and none too soon for most of the denizens of Professor Snape's dungeon. Double Potions had just let out; the halls were suddenly bathed in the mingled aromas of the failed and the successful potions...together, they formed into a noxious cloud that served to push the 4th year students out of the dungeon only more quickly. The Gryffindors somehow always shot to the lead when it came time to leave--all except poor Neville Longbottom, who had to stay and clean up his scattered lacewings from the dark stone floor. He had shredded them painstakingly into a small, neat heap at the center of his desk, but a breeze had risen from somewhere, and it singled out Neville for its playful gusts of disorder. No ingredients on any other desk had been disturbed, only that unfortunate pile of lacewings on the unfortunate Mr. Longbottom's desk. The last of the Slytherins filed out--Millicent Bulstrode's bulky back brushed Neville's bent form as he almost had the last of his mess cleaned up. He ended up on his face, half the pile adhering to his nose and cheeks. The dust mixed so thoroughly with his finely chopped ingredients that he knew the best he could do was a weak potion that hopefully wouldn't explode because of impurities. Professor Snape seemed to have had enough of the scene, and he left by the back door to his office, leaving Neville alone with the dust and stinking wisps of the previous class' potions floating around him and competing for space in his overloaded nostrils.   
  
Outside in the dark underground hall, Millicent Bulstrode leaned heavily over two Slytherin 3rd year students--a diminutive, nondescript blonde boy named Tarantulus Venable, who seemed to be trying to sink into the damp stone wall, and a confident tall boy named Sartorius Jones. Jones had hair that seemed to defy gravity. It stood out almost a full foot from his head in every direction, and it was jet black. In the low light of the passage, it appeared as if he had a black, misshapen halo around his head at all times.   
  
"We're going to ask Professor Snape to teach us the Cruciatus Curse. Want to come?" Jones' voice was as firm and clear as a teacher's, and yet Millicent was barely able to hear him. Cruciatus Curse? The most painful and illegal of incantations? Of course she wanted to learn it! Wary of the closeness of the public passageway and the lingering presence of their Gryffindor classmates, Millicent leaned in conspiratorily and nodded slowly, boring her bulldog eyes into Jones, who met her gaze evenly and smiled.  
  
"Let's go, then. Snape's got to have reached his office by now, " Jones whispered. "He will teach it to us, and you can have your fun with that Muggle-born bubblehead Hermione Granger, can't you?" Jones winked at Millicent, who thinned her lips in the memory of Hermione, the perfect student, who spoiled her enjoyment of classes. A ghost of a grin lit her square face as she remembered Professor Snape's treatment of Hermione--he had blithely taken 5 points from Gryffindor simply because Miss Granger was "an insufferable know-it-all." A slow smile stretched her bulldog cheeks. Slytherins are united, and Snape was as irritated at Granger's antics as Millicent was. Of course, he would teach it to his fellow Slytherins...  
  
Her thin smile turned malicious, and Millicent grabbed Jones by the shoulders, turning quickly toward Snape's office. Venable slid in silently behind them, a blonde ghost with dark eyes that stared and stared into the backs of the other two Slytherins. He was slight, barely the size of most first year students. No one picked on him, mainly because no one ever noticed he was there. He followed silently along and caught the door the others had pulled open at the outer entrance to Snape's office.  
  
The dungeon office of the Potions Master was almost the same in appearance as his classroom, except for the absence of students. There were several surfaces of ebony black, all littered with groups of bottled herbs, reagents and several cauldrons brewing steadily and slowly, their contents wafting and mingling into a whitish, odiferous cloud far above their heads. Upon the wall were several mixing pestles and a first aid kit. Sitting sleepily next to these on a shallow ledge was a bored screech owl, whose head was tucked uncomfortably under its wing. One eye, however, was always blinking, as if it knew that it could be called upon at any time. This was Professor Snape's emergency owl. Millicent recognized it from class. It had been dispatched several times when Neville Longbottom had brewed a potion that had exploded rather too violently or had grown tentacles and tried to choke Neville and several of his classmates while pulling them down into the cauldron en masse. No matter how seemingly harmless the potion that the class was charged with making, Longbottom always seemed to be able to turn it into something dangerous or even lethal. Snape was usually irritated, except for the opportunity it gave him to take points from Gryffindor House, but, on one occasion, he had stared down at Neville's blackened face and suggested that this propensity for creating havoc might be in his favor. "Perhaps, if you can brew a head-shrinking potion for Miss Granger, Longbottom, it might just explode in your favor..."   
  
Severus Snape was entertaining himself in his office. One could never tell by looking at him, as his expression never changed from the scowl he wore in the classroom. This time, however, the scowl denoted concentration. A small black bird sat on a dirty white ceramic perch atop the thin ebony slab that thinly spanned the far-left wall of Snape's cluttered office. It drank slowly from a goblet containing a dark liquid. Snape watched, breathing intently, his eyes fixed on the bird. His wand was held languidly in front of his face, and it made slow deliberate revolutions, setting vague shadows in motion across his set face. The bird raised its head and slowly began to follow the slow turns of Snape's wand with its eyes, then its feathers twitched, and it took off with a sudden burst of speed. It hovered and circled in lazy flight in a vertical curve in front of Snape.   
  
The Slytherins slithered in quietly and watched Snape's back, his robes shifting with his wand motions, only partially visible to Millicent and the other two students. Tarantulus Venable watched the bird, entranced and full of concentration, while Millicent shifted uncomfortably and Jones remained perfectly still, his dark watery eyes fixed on Snape's back. A soft incantation wafted from Snape's lips. None of the students could quite hear it clearly. "Recursio...recursio...recursio..." The air was thick, and none of them dared to interrupt Professor Snape during this eerily quiet recitation.   
  
The bird made tighter circles now, and its speed increased to a maddened pace. The creature looked as though it was bent on tying itself into a knot. They had never seen a bird chase its own tail, but it was so interesting, they almost forgot why they had come to Snape's office. Just when they thought the bird was about to explode in flames of friction, a loud POP! sounded and the bird appeared to completely disappear in a spray of feathers. Each feather grew into a new bird, and, in an instant, it appeared that eight identical birds emerged from the spot where the original bird had disappeared. Each bird flew off in a different direction. Snape turned slowly and neatly in the students' direction.  
  
Suddenly, all eight birds turned and flew directly at the three Slytherin children. Millicent Bulstrode twitched violently. She fell against Tarantulus Venable, who smacked his head hard on the damp stone and slumped senselessly to the floor. Snape met each pair of eyes in succession, no hint of surprise evident in his dark features.   
  
"What may I do for you, my fellow Slytherins?" Snape purred slowly. He seemed slightly distracted, but he quickly regained sharp focus on the three students. A ghostly smile imperceptibly softened his features as he regarded them from across the ebony desk in front of him.  
  
Sartorius Jones stood evenly and tall, his black hair surrounding him like a silent shadow. Counting the top of his unruly mop, he stood easily as tall as Snape himself. He spoke. "You told us to see you in your office after class," The boy's huge brown eyes held Snape's measured stare unblinkingly. The smile on Snape's face widened ever so slightly.  
  
"That is not so, Mr. Jones, but I applaud your efforts all the same. Now what can I help you with? Are you finally going to try out for the Quidditch team then?" Snape paced, catlike, up and down the length of the ebony table separating him from the Slytherin students. His smile became indulgent but still did not lose its wary nature.   
  
Jones spoke up again. "Well, Professor, we thought you would like to help your fellow Slytherins with a problem we are having. And we have to know several spells to help us with it. We have found the Tarantella curse and the Floating Head Charm, but there is one we can't find. We though you could help us." His watery brown eyes were wide and resembled nothing so much as a puppy dog begging for food. Every muscle in his thin body seemed to radiate a submissive attitude. He was begging his professor for help, but not overtly, as his question did not suggest desperation or any urgency at all. He was merely 'curious.'  
  
Snape maintained his smile, but his eyes sharpened slightly. "What is it you seek, Sartorius? Can you not find it in the library? You know I pride Slytherin House on being able to ferret out the answers to any problem that besets them, even the ones Madame Pince would not approve of our looking into. Is that not right, Sartorius?"  
  
"Yes sir, professor. I have spent days in the library, and I have questioned all the ghosts that would talk to me. But still I cannot find information on the Cruciatus Curse. It is vital to my research." Jones' face twitched involuntarily, but he caught himself in the midst, turning it smoothly into an itch that he had to scratch.  
  
Snape stopped pacing and stared hard at Jones, and then at the other two Slytherins. Venable was staring up blearily from the wall. He didn't react when Snape's black eyes unexpectedly bored into him. He was still dazed. Millicent Bulstrode seemed to be shifting her weight impatiently. She wasn't used to waiting for answers. Her marks in most of her classes attested to that. *Why would she be interested in this? * Snape regarded her only briefly and snapped his eyes back to Jones. He was obviously the ringleader, so Snape focused all his attention on him, ignoring the other two.   
  
"You really want to learn that curse, do you? It is very dangerous, and often rebounds on the person doing the curse. It is very advanced. Are you absolutely sure?" Snape was still holding his wand at his robe's lapel, and he seemed to be very unconcerned, although his voice was low and deliberate. His wand moved slightly, and his eyes caught the ceiling, as if in a vague reminiscence, and he muttered something inaudible that sounded sort of like "reflector" or "refector;" none of them were sure. The dungeon's walls seemed damper than usual. They noticed silvery droplets around them that made every surface vaguely reflective. Jones and Millicent blinked; they were not really aware of this change on a conscious level. Snape turned back to them. Their eyes were wide and fixed on him completely now.  
  
Sartorius Jones awoke as from a dream, and answered automatically, "Yes, professor. I would like you to help me with this if you can." There was a slight emphasis on the word "can", as if Jones were implying that Snape did not possess the knowledge to impart the finer points of this curse to them.   
  
A muscle twitched in Snape's jaw as he stared at Jones, who was like marble. "Very well. As I know, and you all know, the first rule of being a successful Slytherin is resourcefulness. I congratulate you, Mr. Jones, on your foresight in seeking me out for this lesson, and not an outsider. Well done."  
  
Jones straightened even more, his eyes twinkling now. The stone walls twinkled glassily around them, as Snape held his wand at the ready. He instructed Jones to do the same. "Mr. Jones, since you are obviously the one with the initiative, you may go first. Mr. Venable, get up and stand opposite Mr. Jones. "   
  
Snape's demeanor was very clipped, but still maintained an almost comfortable casualness. He sauntered around the desk and pulled the stiff figure of Tarantulus Venable to a standing position. The boy was terrified; his dark eyes widened in shock. Professor Snape was going to use him as a target! No wonder Sartorius had spoken to him. It was all a trap! The boy squirmed, but Snape held him fast.  
  
"Stand here and don't move, or you will regret it, boy! Be a credit to Slytherin House! Watch and learn!" The tone in Snape's voice was now beyond what Venable could resist. He froze in the position Snape had set him in, facing his 'friend' Sartorius Jones, who was practically bouncing with anticipation. Snape turned to Jones and gave him only short directions, in a very clipped voice.  
  
"The incantation is short and simple. "Crucio" is the word, and your wand must indicate the target directly. Your eyes must be on the target, and you must have complete intent. You have not learned the full meaning of these things yet, being a 4th year, but you will understand them soon enough. Proceed...Now!"   
  
Snape stepped back, out of the radius of any possible curse, and Millicent also backed up a healthy distance. Only Tarantulus Venable remained in the target area. He was alone--white-faced and motionless. It happened so quickly that no one could recall it properly thereafter. Jones breathed several times, waved his wand experimentally in the air, and then shouted "Crucio!", his wand shooting forward in his tight grip towards Venable. Suddenly the wand was no longer in his hands, and Jones was screaming.   
  
Snape whispered "Silencio....silencio..." and Jones twitched silently and grotesquely on the cold stone floor, his screams squelched by Snape's incantation. Then, a seeming eternity later..."Finite incantatem!" Snape waved his wand around them room, whispering inaudibly, and it seemed to lose the mirrorlike quality it had taken on previously. The walls lost their appearance of dampness, and the dungeon office darkened perceptibly. No one really noticed it except Snape, who turned around to regard eight black birds, who were now flitting back through the doorway.  
  
Tarantulus Venable slowly unfroze, but he remained as white as ever. He was sure he was going to be hit with the Cruciatus Curse, the most painful (and highly illegal!) curse known in the wizarding world. He breathed hard several times and stared inscrutably at Professor Snape, who was leaning over to speak to Jones.  
  
"It is a difficult curse, as I told you, Sartorius. I suggest you read more about avoiding rebounding before you try it again." Does anyone else feel confident enough to try this curse? Miss Bulstrode? Mr. Venable? Want a little revenge? You know I always try to help my fellow Slytherins, but you must also do the work. You must help me out by learning the basics before you come to me wanting to know the more dangerous and advanced curses. "  
  
Sartorius Jones pulled himself painfully off the stone floor, and took his leave, Millicent Bulstrode following uncertainly but closely behind him. Only Tarantulus Venable remained, white and shaking, but his eyes were wide and focused darkly on Professor Snape, whose expression was unreadable. "That curse is illegal. Why would you even try to teach us an illegal curse? What if someone told on you?" The boy could barely get the words out, he was stammering so hard.  
  
"I did not teach him the curse. That is easily found in the Grade 7 spellbook, and I know Mr. Jones possesses and has read through that already, despite being a 4th year. I taught him his place, as I am teaching you yours. Do you understand, Tarantulus? I hope to see you excel on my finals as you have in my class all through the term. " Snape turned away finally, signaling Venable that his time was over. The eight black birds settled silently on Snape's shoulders as he slinked to the back of his office, back to another project.  
  
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End.  
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